


Tout a changé le jour où je t'ai donnée la vie

by leiascully



Category: Doctor Who (2005), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Baby Fic, Crossover, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the TARDIS that tells the Doctor that River is pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Post-S6 but no real spoilers; no beach divorce in XMFC  
> Concrit: Welcome  
> A/N: So then I wrote some baby-fic. Title is from a Teri Moise song. Thanks to [**amaliak**](http://amaliak.livejournal.com/) for the readthrough.  
>  Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ and all related characters are the property of Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, and BBC. _X-Men: First Class_ and all related characters are the property of Bryan Singer, Fox, and Marvel. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

It's the TARDIS that tells the Doctor that River is pregnant. He's fiddling with something on the console, trying to figure out why exactly the old girl has sprouted what look like children's blocks, when the scanner blinks and blinks at him until he pays attention.

"What is the matter with you, eh?" he asks idly, stroking the pull bar, but when he sees what's on the screen, he has to clutch at it to keep from falling over. It's a full body scan of one River Song, a red light glowing in her abdomen. Hope starts in him like the first warmth of the spring; bits of his hearts he thought were frozen for good are thawing in a rush of happiness. "River?"

She is crossing through the control room, headed down the corridor. Her brow is furrowed. She looks a bit distracted. "Hmm?"

"I," he stammers. "You. Are you...with child?"

"Oh, that," she says, smiling faintly. "Well, she'd know better than I would, at this point." She nods toward the TARDIS. "But yes, it would seem so. I was going to wait until I was certain to tell you, but she's as good as any doctor, really." She winks at him.

"But," he stammers. "But when? How?"

River gives him that look she gives him every time she thinks he's being thick. "Do I really need to explain, my love? You seemed to understand quite well the last time."

He can feel a smug expression growing on his face at that. "All right then, I know _how_ , after a fashion, but we weave our children, you know. On looms. We don't grow them in-house, as it were. Still very startling."

She raises her eyebrows. "Are you pleased, my love?"

He's down the stairs and across the room in a few strides, cupping her face in his hands. "Absolutely staggered with delight. River, River, River...are you happy?"

"Delighted," she says. "And I'll be even happier as soon as I stop feeling ill."

He folds her into his arms: her warm, curvy, compact, miraculous body fits perfectly against his. She lays her head on his shoulder, pushing her face into the hollow of his neck. No surprise she's seemed tired lately. "I haven't been a dad in a very long time," he says quietly, wonder in his voice. "I wasn't even certain it could happen, between us."

"I thought we might talk about it, one of these days," she says into his lapels, "but it seems that contraceptives aren't really designed for a space that exists in all times at once. Or perhaps your genetic material is just a bit too vigorous."

"Oh, River," he says, flustered.

"Stop blushing," she says. "I'm from the fifty-first century. We're very practical about these things. And before you go all mopey-faced, it isn't that I didn't want a baby with a time head. It just didn't seem like quite the time."

"It's never the time," he says, stroking her back. "But it's always the right time."

"Time Lord," she says with gentle scorn. "Hark at you."

He kisses her hair, as if he can convince her of his delight with just his lips and his hands and the words that are welling up in him like music. "River Song, Melody Pond, child of the TARDIS," he says. "Believe me when I say there's nothing that could make me happier."

"Nothing?" She peers up at him.

"Welllll," he pretends to think. "Nah. Not a single thing."

"Well then," she says, grinning at him. "I suppose there's a new adventure for us."

He can't help spinning her around until they're both breathless and laughing and she's begging him to stop.

"Oi, you," she says, pressing her hand to her belly, "I'm ill enough as it is!"

He pulls her close, almost trembling with joy and love. He'd thought he was done with that part of his life forever. He's never been more glad to be wrong.

\+ + + +

She stays with him in the TARDIS through the entirety of her pregnancy. He would have insisted if he'd had to, kidnapped her and stolen her vortex manipulator (he pretends to himself that he could have, anyway). The Stormcage governor can bloody well deal with it, he thinks. She's not going to be carrying their child and sleeping on a cot in what amounts to the open air while the guards peer in at her. It's an archaic sort of possessiveness, old as the universe, but he can't help feeling it. He asks her about it first, of course, since there's just no point in trying to keep her anywhere she doesn't want to be. River just pats his cheek and goes on about her business of trying to unravel the whole of history and weave it back again in a way that pleases her more. She insists on serving out her sentence later on (though why she feels so strongly about it when she hardly spends a moment in her cell as it is, he'll never know) but there's no way he's letting her out of his sight for a single moment. (as long as that's all right with her). Anyway, she seems pleased about it. Most of the time.

"I'm pregnant, not dying," she says with annoyance, glaring at him as he tries to rub her feet solicitously. She's reading in a chair in the library with her feet propped up - how was he to know it wasn't an invitation?

"My last wife liked it," he offers, only a little bit sulky.

"I imagine she wasn't trained to personally and professionally terminate your life, was she?" River retorts. "Come back later, when my feet actually hurt. I'm trying to accomplish things while I still have my brain to myself."

She doesn't want breakfast in bed, either, though she doesn't seem to mind a bit of a cuddle. She doesn't want him to draw her a bath. She wants to go out adventuring, the very definition of a high-risk pregnancy. There's very little he can do to stop her, either, since she's headstrong and armed. She isn't showing yet, at least.

"Please, please, please, can we stay in tonight?" he begs, trying to block the doorway, but she ducks under his limbs.

"I'll go on my own," she threatens, and he's left trailing after her again.

"I don't know why you worry so," she says over her shoulder. "I always make it through. And there's so much I haven't seen. Easier now than after the baby's born."

"So many toxins," he mutters. "So many traps."

"To which both of us seem to be largely impervious," she points out sweetly, "which is one of the benefits of being Time Lord, is it not? With any luck, our child will be even quicker and cleverer than I am. Now come on, the conjunction of these planets only happens once every hundred thousand years and I'll be needing dinner in an hour or so. We've got reservations at a lovely little place on Phobos."

He takes up knitting in despair. Fortunately, he knits nearly as fast as he reads, or else it would be just another ridiculously slow all-in-order human thing in the list of them he's learned to put up with. Rory teaches him to make tiny jumpers. The Doctor stuffs the nursery full of the things, endless variations in various sizes, more than any six babies could ever wear. There is a nursery, of course: the TARDIS made it the same day they discovered River was pregnant. It's got his old cot in it, naturally, and a lot of adorable baby things that he isn't quite sure where the old girl picked up. It adjoins the room where River sleeps (and himself as well, when he sleeps). It is altogether too precious and the Doctor is rather delighted. River squeezes his hand and lets him rub her back.

"All right, sweetie," she says. "No cause to fuss about it."

"I think I ought to get one of those slings," the Doctor says, peering at a catalogue he found at a little shop when he was looking for a baby book and one of those soothing lamps. "Do you think I should?"

"Absolutely, honey," she tells him. "That will really convince everyone you aren't one of those overbearing, overprotective parents."

"I won't be!" he says, outraged.

She puts her hands on her hips and smiles at him, fondly superior. "Really now. So when the universe catches on that there's a baby Time Lord toddling around, what's going to happen then?"

"Nothing! Nothing will ever happen! I won't let it!" He bristles and paces circles around the room. She nods.

"That's right, my love. It'll be Demon's Run all over again, a thousand times worse. Oooh, Machiavelli would adore you - you want to be feared and loved at once, and on top of that, you want immunity for your child? After all you've done? Half the races in the universe would love to see you out of their way."

"What about you?" he asks. "What about all you've done?"

"At least I'll be able to defend her," River snaps, her hands covering her belly.

"She?" the Doctor says, stopping in his tracks.

"Ah," River says. "Spoilers. The TARDIS is keeping a very close eye on me for some reason."

"We're going to have a daughter?" He dances over to River and kisses her swiftly. "Do you think we've met her before?"

"I suppose we'll find out in good time," River tells him.

"You of all people," he says, scolding just a little bit. "You of all people, to be _patient_ and _wise_ about this when we could just skip forward a bit and meet her now."

"No," she says fiercely. "You will _not_. I am going to live every single minute of this, and if you try to take a shortcut and miss out on the boring bits and the inconvenient moments and the crying fits, you bloody great Time Lord, I will never speak to you again."

"It's just difficult," he says, penitent, cupping his hands over hers. "You already know her a bit and I won't get to meet her for _so_ long still."

She softens at that. "Come on then. We'll fight about it later." She takes his hands and leads him back to their room. He curls up next to her, his face next to her softly rounding stomach, listening to the murmurs of her body as inside her, their child is woven together.

\+ + + +

There are beautiful moments even so, quiet moments when they look up at each other and smile suddenly. She has a new gravity even as she clings to her adventuring ways. She is, at least, slightly less likely to dash headlong into situations that put her in mortal peril. He can see that it vexes her, to have to consider the life of another, but perhaps that's good practice for their unorthodox marriage; he's learning the same lesson along with her, after all, living with her in the TARDIS. Even Rose didn't cohabit with him quite like this. The TARDIS may have a nearly infinite capacity (at least, theoretically), but that doesn't mean he and River don't find each other underfoot oftener than not. The Doctor takes it one frustration at a time.

They cook in the TARDIS' galley. River turns out to be a dab hand with a wok, and he had more than a few conversations with Julia Child, so they cobble together some very acceptable meals between them. The Doctor tries to sleep next to his wife when he's tired instead of just sloping off to the nearest available bedroom or comfy chair. They negotiate the space in the loo while they're cleaning their teeth together. He takes her to whatever corner of the galaxy she fancies to satisfy her cravings.

"It is ridiculous, the amount I love you," River sighs one day as he comes back with a carton of takeaway from a little place hardly anyone knows about (next week they'll change management and the food won't be half as good).

"You don't have to sound so resigned about it," he points out, amused.

She takes the food and inhales the steam rising from it, her eyes closing in pleasure. "Only in the best way, my love. Resigned to a lifetime of dragging you straight into danger and straight through the mundane moments as well. It isn't easy, I'll have you know, being the Doctor's wife. You just keep buggering on."

"You keep up just fine," he reassures her. "In fact, I seem to recall an awful lot of running after you."

"Here's to an awful lot to come," she says, toasting him with a morsel from her box of food.

"River Song, I'll run after you forever," he promises.

She bursts into tears (hormones, he expects).

\+ + + +

It is easier for him later, as River slowly gets larger and less nimble. She tires more easily; for once, she is content to sightsee the universe rather than wanting to conquer it. The Doctor takes her to all of his favorite places, one by one. They take long walks on alien beaches, hand in hand under purple skies and silver ones. He knows he's making up for lost time, or time that will be lost, but even so, he's nearly giddy, being able to share all the tucked-away corners he loves with the woman he adores.

Every single thing about her is a revelation: the tight skin of her belly, the extra shine in her eyes and her hair, that particular soft look her face takes on when she's listening to the baby. When the baby moves for the first time and she gasps and presses his hand to the place where the tiny foot kicked, he is astounded and overcome, as if he's never felt this before. The TARDIS one day lets them hear the quick double heartbeat of their baby and the Doctor can do nothing but hold River in his arms, his eyes prickling with tears. He's looking forward to all of it: late feedings (he doesn't sleep much anyway), changing nappies, soothing his daughter back to sleep, first steps, first non-Baby words, first accidental TARDIS piloting, first argument over where they're going next.

River's right. He needs to live every minute of this. He needs to know what it is to be human, at least as close as he can get without finding his old fob watch, taking each second as it comes instead of picking and choosing the ones he likes. His child will be at least partly human. He needs to know how she'll live, if she's not in the TARDIS with her parents. River is right, it might not be possible - he might have to find the chameleon arch and give it to his daughter. Maybe if she doesn't know, she'll be safe, but then again, she's River's daughter as well, which makes her unlikely to comply with any of his wishes. He sighs. It was so much easier when Gallifrey wasn't a hellish ruin, when a person of Time-ish descent could raise a family in peace.

And speaking of his daughter, of all people, Jenny shows up, with hugs and gifts all around, fawning over the Ponds and cooing at River's belly.

"I'm going to be a sister!" she squeals, clapping her hands in delight. "Dad, why didn't you tell me?"

"Frankly, I wasn't sure you still existed," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "Besides which, I didn't have your number."

"She probably wouldn't have answered the phone anyway," Amy says. " _You_ never do."

"Ah," he says, "well, yes. That is, technically speaking, not true, but generally, all right, it's a bit true. But the TARDIS grew an answerphone! It would have offended her if I hadn't used it!"

"Rule One," River says, rolling her eyes. "Fortunately, she rerouted all the truly crucial calls to me. Clever old girl."

"I'm sorry I never called," Jenny says, looking truly endearing as she clasps her hands together. "But there was so much to see! So many people to meet! I just lost track of the time!"

"I know," the Doctor says, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Still. Good to see you and all."

They eat fairy cakes and drink tea and River opens baby gifts and it is such a _normal_ afternoon that the Doctor, for a moment, thinks about fleeing straight out the door and into his time machine, parked in the garden. But then he catches the eye of his wife and she smiles at him, a little smear of icing at the corner of her mouth, and there's really nowhere else he wants to be but right here, among his family.

\+ + + +

"What shall we call her?" he asks River.

"How will we know until we meet her?" she retorts, all practicality.

"The Baby," the Doctor muses, putting his palm on River's stomach. "I think she might like that one, she just kicked. Or ooh, The Child."

River snorts. "Yes, clearly. She'll go through her whole life being 'The Child'. That won't be awkward at all when she's five hundred or so."

"It's descriptive!" the Doctor says, slightly stung. "Fine, have it your way."

River rubs her stomach. "Don't Time Lords usually pick their own names? Isn't that how we ended up with The Doctor and The Master?"

"Yes, but," the Doctor begins. "I mean, that can go so wrong. I knew someone called The Florist and people were always asking him if he did tile. Romantic soul, you see, didn't really work out for him in the end. You really can't trust someone so young to pick a proper name. If humans picked their names, we'd have an awful lot of Stormageddons and that just doesn't look good on a business card at a certain age."

"I don't know," River says, her lips curving into a smile. "I always rather liked 'River Song'."

"That's different!" he protests. "It's still _your_ name, just updated."

"So wiser heads must prevail?" she asks.

"At least until she's old enough to know better," he tells her.

"Good," she says. "Then, as the wiser head of this twosome, I absolutely forbid you to call her The Child. And before you start on with your 'who made you the wiser head' nonsense, you're called the Doctor and you can't even splint a broken finger."

He pauses. "That's a fair point."

"Besides, we still haven't solved the problem of what we do when somebody figures out that there's an infant Time Lord," she says, her eyes worried. "I'm not locking her away. I know what that does to a child. A name might distract them, for a while."

"We'll find a way to keep her safe," he reassures her. River Song and the Doctor, eh - nothing's managed to take us down yet."

"Not forever, anyway," she corrects him. "We are rather startlingly resourceful."

"I wouldn't lay odds against us," he tells her. "Especially not when it comes to our child. I wouldn't lay odds against her either, not once she starts walking."

"Or talking," River teases. "Never let her talk. You'll wind up completely back to front, wondering just why it is that you surrendered your entire empire without a fight."

"Just so," the Doctor says, smiling.

\+ + + +

He doesn't panic the day that River says calmly (though through rather gritted teeth and with a tightness about her eyes), "It's time to go." Of course he doesn't panic. He certainly hasn't been panicking since the contractions began hours and hours or possibly ages of humanity ago. This isn't his first time at the rodeo, and anyway, he's a Time Lord, he's calm under pressure and extra-cool in tough situations, and, er, he might be panicking just a bit.

The TARDIS calls Amy and Rory. He supposes even a terrifyingly competent mercenary wants her mum and dad now and again. He doesn't really have to wonder where she got all of that, either: Amy immediately goes to the TARDIS wardrobe for the hospital bag (why didn't he think of that?) and Rory sets about talking River through the contractions. The TARDIS jumps all on her own to the Sisters of the Infinite Schism where all four of them pace the halls because River refuses to lie down and nobody's going to say no to a woman whose pain response is usually to terminate somebody.

The Doctor trails along behind, lost in his thoughts. More than anything, he wants to skip ahead and miss all the bits where she's in pain and there's nothing he can do about it, but he promised he wouldn't. River has already informed him that he is in no way being cool about this and the last thing she needs is a Time Lord Hovering, can't he go find a planet to save, but he doesn't want to leave her, either. So he wanders through the halls, keeping her in sight, and he thinks of his family before. He thinks of his grandchildren, all long dead. At least they got to share a few adventures. He thinks of his wife and his children. The memories are blurred and sharp at the same time; he remembers certain details as clearly as if he saw them yesterday, but he's put so much of it so far away in his mind. River deserves better than a husband with his head in the past.

He's a different person than he was when he stole away from Gallifrey in the TARDIS. He can't say if he's a better person; he's done plenty of good and plenty of bad things since then. But he's happier now, with River, than he can remember being in an age.

"Doctor?" one of the nurses says, and it takes him a moment to realize she's talking to him. He realizes he's lost the Ponds, and for a moment he really does begin to panic, but the sister is smiling.

"She's in the delivery room," the sister says. "She says to tell you on no account are you allowed in because you will just make everyone nervous and quite possibly capsize some very important equipment, and she is fine, and she will see you very soon."

"And that's verbatim, is it?" he quips.

"Oh yes," the sister says, her eyes round and earnest in her furry face.

"Never mind," he says. He runs down the halls, sliding around the corners, and demands of each person where exactly the delivery room is, so he can pace up and down outside the doors. He can hear River shouting and Amy and Rory talking to her, and it makes him absolutely frantic, but he's not going to make her angry now. He settles for glaring at each person who passes. It seems as if a millennium passes before the pained noises stop and instead, there's the wail of an unhappy and protesting newborn. He can't stop himself then: he demands a paper gown and a mask from the next nurse who passes and bursts into the room, where one of the sisters is just swaddling his clean baby in a blanket covered in stars while Amy and Rory watch, fiercely proud.

"Ponds," he says, nodding to them.

"I'm too young to be a grandmother," Amy says, but she looks very happy. Rory pulls her into his side and kisses the top of her head as they gaze at the baby. The sister hands the baby to River and withdraws, promising to come back shortly to move them into a room less filled with surgical equipment.

"Well now," River says, looking exhausted but extremely pleased with herself as she cradles the tiny bundled-up form of their daughter. "What are we going to do about the big bad universe now?"

"Improvise," he tells her, mouth dry.

"Come and say hello," she says, nodding at the edge of the bed. He sits next to her and wraps his arms around her, holding her and their daughter at once. The baby yawns. She is so, so small and so fragile, but her tiny squashed face is beautiful and wise. She blinks up at them, blue eyes unfocused. They will be green later, he thinks, but for now they are blue as a dream. Her mouthed thoughts are just as blurred as her gaze: _hungry, warm, mum, you, who._ She will be strong, he knows, and curious, and nearly impossible to dissuade once she's set her mind on something. Her attention moves from him to the rest of the room as she tries her best to place herself in this wide new world.

"Talk to her," River murmurs. "Start telling her our stories."

"Hello," he says, his throat so tight with love and fear for his family that he has to swallow hard.

His daughter stares out into space, stars already in her eyes.


	2. Year One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year they have Lori with them is one of the best of River and the Doctor's lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: Post-S6  
> Concrit: Welcome  
> A/N: Hey, so remember that time I wrote baby fic as a one-shot? Yeah. Then I wrote more.  
> Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ and all related characters are the property of Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, and BBC. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Once upon a time, it would have been quite normal for a Time Lord to be changing nappies. But that was a very long time ago indeed, the Doctor thinks. He's glad to discover he hasn't really lost the knack of it, even when his daughter kicks her chubby legs in protest at being wrapped and unwrapped in such an undignified fashion. She's gotten rather self-aware of late.

"Can't leave you in that state," he tells her. "Trust me, you're better off this way."

She gurgles at him.

"Well, yes, it is a little lacking in the general area of pride," he agrees, "but you're really quite small at this point, and besides, it's only me. I'm your old dad. It's my job to do this for you until you can fend for yourself. It's a matter of logistics, not a campaign to humiliate you."

She frowns and sighs.

"I wouldn't count on it being any less grumpy-face-inducing any time soon," he tells her. "Sorry. Growing takes time and before you ask, it isn't one of those things that I can just mess around with. You'll have to live this bit out. It won't be like this forever."

She makes a sort of popping noise with her mouth, and he laughs, reaching for the powder.

"Well, I hope you'll look more like your mum. She's much prettier than I am."

She coos.

"No," he tells her. "We decided you should pick your own name. Make sure you think about it."

She make an insistent noise.

"Oh, you have picked? Lorien?" He smiles. "Of course it's lovely. Leave it to our child to pick a name from a language I had to spend actual _time_ learning. Oooh, your mum is going to be sad she was napping. Then again, her Baby's not as good as mine, is it, so perhaps it's best that you told me." He finishes wrapping her in the clean cloth and hoists her up. "Come on, let's go and tell her. Aren't you clever, barely three months and you've picked your own name."

She burbles as if she's going to spit up on his shoulder.

"Yes," he says, "of course I'll stop calling you The Baby. Honestly, though, it suits you."

She blows a raspberry.

\+ + + +

The year they have Lori with them is one of the best of River and the Doctor's lives. They take her to every tame planet they can think of. The Doctor does acquire a sling, carrying his daughter close to his chest. The thud of his double heartbeat seems to soothe her, and so does running, which is fortunate, because somehow even on an ostensibly safe planet, the Doctor manages to find trouble (or it finds River).

But it isn't all running. They let Lori crawl her way through ruins and space-age cities and through the more manageable bits of jungles and plains. They hold her hands and walk her through gardens and villages and over beaches and mudflats. She floats in null-gee. She toddles through the TARDIS, first with the Doctor's help and then on her own. She gets coated in all sorts of bizarre substances and tries to put precious artifacts and once, most of a civilization, in her mouth. River and the Doctor laugh more than they thought was possible. The Doctor falls asleep with Lori in her sling and River thinks her heart will break with happiness. River dances Lori around the console to a recording of Frank that the Doctor taped live and the Doctor nearly weeps, he's so glad.

Lori's first word is "time". The Doctor is desperately proud.

It's bliss. It's exhausting. It's worrisome and joyful and everything the Doctor had nearly forgotten, all his long years without a family. It's all a bit human-y, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. For the first time since Gallifrey, he feels as if he has a home. He's hardly ever felt more satisfied with his roundabout wayward life; he's closer to his wife and his daughter than he's been to almost anyone. His days are all bound up in theirs and it's wonderful.

But there are bad times too. Not all of the running is an easy jog. Some of it is literally for their lives. The Doctor's kept a low profile for a while now, but he still runs into an old enemy now and again, and the spectre of Kovarian lurks in both of their minds as they tuck Lori in at night. One Time Lady has already been made a weapon, her childhood stolen and shredded, her parents distraught. Neither of them will let that happen again.

As Lori gets older, the calls get closer and more frequent. The Doctor skids into the TARDIS just behind River, slamming the door as River clutches Lori to her and throws the wibbly lever. The door of the TARDIS has a scar from a bullet, the next time they stop and look around. The Doctor strokes the wood gently and leans against the door, murmuring consolation.

"We could leave her with my parents until she's older," River suggests one day as they watch Lori sleep, her mouth open and her face squashed into her TARDIS-blue blanket. She'll have the marks of tiny embroidered stars on her face when she wakes up, which is so charming that River nearly can't bear it.

"We could," the Doctor says with his brows drawn together in worry. "But they're easy enough to link to you, and even easier to link to me. Your mother's got distinctive hair, for one. And your father had two thousand years to imprint his face on people's memories. He's practically a cultural icon. And a fledgling Time Lady, just coming into her own? She'd light up every radar like a beacon. There has to be another way."

"We'll think of something," River says.

"I wouldn't wager against us," the Doctor says. "Your wits. My whimsy. The universe hasn't been able to resist us yet."

"I wish it would grant us a little more peace," River says wistfully. "You can't make time stand still a while, my love?"

The Doctor puts his arm around her. "No, dear, I can't. Besides, that's your specialty."

"I know," she says, burying her face in the Doctor's lapel for just a moment. "All right. What are we going to do?"

"Flee, for now," he tells her. "The TARDIS can take us where we need to go. She always does."

River looks up at him. "I wish I had something to shoot."

He laughs softly and sadly and kisses her forehead. "One day they'll catch up to us, no matter how fast we run."

"I know," she says.

"You better than most," he says, and rubs her back. They stand there watching Lori sleep.

"I love the TARDIS," River says, leaning against the Doctor, "and she's more a home than anything I've ever had, but that's no kind of life for our daughter, never able to put her feet on the ground."

"Not the life we want for her, certainly," the Doctor agrees. "There's only so far you can run down these corridors, and no instructional video ever quite gives you the real experience of a planet."

"I don't want her to live her life in a prison," River says fiercely, "not any sort of prison." She puts out a hand to rub the wall of the TARDIS comfortingly.

"I may have a solution," the Doctor says, his voice slow and thoughtful. "Give me a little while to work it out."

"Take your time," River says, watching as Lori clenches and unclenches her tiny fist. "Take every minute you can."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River and the Doctor leave Lorien with some exceptional caretakers.

"I've done quite a number of difficult things in my life," River says conversationally, "but this is by far the most difficult." She's cradling Lori in her arms, and she can't bear to look at the Doctor. She's River Song and she doesn't weep, not even when she's turning her baby daughter over to the tender mercies of a couple of strangers. The Doctor insists this place is their best chance, and she trusts him, but it's still ripping the heart out of her, and she hasn't even let them take Lorien from her arms yet.

She knows - she _knows_ \- that this is the best solution. Not even she can protect their daughter from the entirety of the big bad universe. They've had enough close calls already and Lori's just barely a year old. It's dangerous just standing here, out in the open at the door of this great estate. The Doctor landed the TARDIS on the lawn and insisted they knock on the door. River isn't used to entering places like this by the front door. 

At least it takes a long time for anyone to answer. Those are precious moments that River is still spending with her child, kissing the top of Lori's sweet downy head where her hair is coming in tiny ginger curls. River holds Lori close, rocking a little and humming quietly. She waits for the door to open and swallow her child up. The first sign that anyone is even really there in the massive estate is the patter of bare feet, and then a young woman swings open the door, wearing what appears to be nothing but her own blue and scaly skin. 

"You were right, Charles!" the girl calls over her shoulder. "They're from out of town."

"Much farther than that, I'd say," says Charles, coming up behind her. He clicks his heels together and bows slightly. "Well met, Time Lord."

"I told you you'd know me when you saw me again," the Doctor says, extending his hand. "Professor Charles Xavier, I'm calling in my favor." He looks intently at Charles, who touches two fingers briefly to his temple and then smiles. 

"Of course. How rude of me. Please come in." He holds out a hand, ushering them into the hall. "Raven," he says to the blue woman, "would you please ask Erik to meet me in the study, if he's not too busy cooking with the little ones."

Raven rolls her eyes. "Because I have nothing better to do with my day."

"Please," Charles says, affection mingling in his voice with a hint of command.

"I'm going," Raven grumbles and stalks off down the hallway, her body language making it clear that she'd much rather stay and learn what on earth a Time Lord might be and promising that Charles will pay for this somehow later. _Family_ , River thinks, and strokes her daughter's hair again.

River doesn't mean to act as if it's the Doctor's fault. It's at least half her fault. They've put their clever heads together time and time again, looking for a solution, but there isn't one better than this: they've got to hide their daughter away, take her memories and alter her body with the Chameleon Arch, and let her grow up as normally as possible in this school for gifted (mentally and otherwise) children. As normally as any time-displaced child can - to River's mind, the 1960s aren't anything as enlightened as she'd prefer for Lori, but this Charles Xavier owed the Doctor quite a large favor, and the Doctor promised that Lori would feel at home. At least Lori will learn some tolerance, if her classmates are anything like Raven. And the estate is beautiful. She and the Doctor follow Charles down a maze of hallways paneled in wood and if it's slightly startling when two children chase each other through the lovely and very solid walls, River doesn't bat an eye. 

Her daughter won't be the most unusual child in this place. Perhaps that will be something of a blessing, to have a normal childhood. It's certainly something River never had herself.

After what seems like miles of corridors, Charles pushes open a door and ushers them into what River presumes is the study. There's a tall man in a turtleneck gazing moodily out the window - Erik, no doubt, beckoned to meet them by Raven. 

Charles gives a little bow and directs them to chairs. Erik nods shortly, his rather unhappy gaze resting on them. River and the Doctor sit down. The Doctor reaches over to take Lori onto his lap and River lets him. Lori nestles into her father's arms and yawns. Charles perches on the edge of a large, expensive-looking desk. 

"Doctor, Doctor Song, this is my partner, Erik Lensherr." 

"How did you know my name?" River asks. 

"I'm a telepath, Doctor Song," Charles says, leaning forward on his elbows. "I have the ability to read people's thoughts. Your name was at the very forefront of the Doctor's mind, along with his worry about your child. I wouldn't worry. I believe that we can protect her."

"What's your talent?" River asks Erik. 

"I'm not certain I understand you," Erik says coolly.

"Mister Lensherr," River says, putting a little of the cold of space in her own voice, "In the last few minutes, I met a young woman of extraordinary hue for an Earthling and a telepath, and I saw two children who can walk through walls. I'm no stranger to the strange, Mister Lensherr, and no enemy to the extraordinary. I am about to turn my daughter over to you and your partner. I would like to know whose care I am leaving her in."

Erik inclines his head. "I'm not prone to thinking of it as a talent, Doctor Song, but I have some skill with metal."

Suddenly, River feels most of the weapons she keeps hidden about her person grow slightly warm. She always has a few non-metallic bits and bobs, of course. Erik picks up a letter opener from the desk and holds it out and then lets go; it stays in the air. Before her eyes, it twists itself into a corkscrew.

"I'm rather fond of that one, Erik," Charles says mildly. "It's an heirloom."

The letter opener returns to its original form and settles back on the desk. Erik gazes at River, and there's a challenge in her eyes. She just smiles at him, a small quirk of the lips, but the best she can manage today.

"Impressive control," she says. 

Something flickers in his eyes. She is certain that he recognizes her own need for control. A weapon knows another weapon.

"We work very hard with the children to help them master themselves," Charles says. "Don't we, Erik?"

"I was taken from my parents as an infant," River says, still watching Erik. "I was raised by zealots as a weapon to kill the man sitting beside me. I hope that mastery is not your only objective."

The Doctor stirs, but says nothing. Charles looks at River, his eyes warm and his pink lips quirking. He doesn't look nearly old enough to be in charge of all these children. River rubs Lori's back.

"This is a school," he says. "Our mission is to educate, not to indoctrinate. We teach the children about their extraordinary abilities, of course, but along with that, we stress the importance of compassion. Our students must be able to walk among their fellow humans and to treat them with kindness and respect."

"She'll be safe," Erik says. "She'll be able to defend herself. I assure you, Charles has no ulterior motives. He really does believe in the peaceful coexistence of the extraordinary and the merely mortal." He looks at River. _And you?_ , she asks him silently, even though he's not the telepath. She's fairly certain she knows the answer anyway. 

"She'll be human," the Doctor says, pulling the edge of his coat over Lori, who's napping against his chest. "She'll have the chameleon arch."

"But she'll still be extraordinary," River says, a little more fiercely than she intends. The Doctor looks at her. His hazel eyes are grave, and there are lines etched at the corners of his mouth. 

"Yes," he says quietly. "She always will be."

River knows it isn't any easier for him. She knows there isn't another way. They can't keep running forever. But she can't entirely dismiss the flare of anger when she looks at him, just sitting there. And then the anger's gone again, and she's looking at her husband, who has lost so much, who is so weary of losing people, who has outlived nearly everyone he's ever loved. She reaches out for his hand. His fingers are warm in hers. 

"All right," she says. Charles opens his mouth, but Erik catches his eye, and Charles closes his mouth again, nodding very slightly. 

They hold Lori through the process of her transformation. She squalls, furious, even though the Doctor explains that it's for her own protection, that it needs to happen, that he's so very sorry that it hurts. Charles tucks the chameleon arch away, promising to put it somewhere secret and safe. River holds her daughter and kisses Lorien's head.

"It's better this way," she murmurs. "At least you got a nicer place than your old mum, eh? It will be easier if you don't remember for a while, but you'll meet us again. I'm sure of it."

The Doctor bends close to Lori's ear. River can't hear what he says. There's a ringing in her ears and a prickling behind her eyes. And then they are handing their child to Erik, who holds her with surprising competence, given his air of disdain. 

"She'll be safe," he says one last time, and River holds his gaze. She can't read minds, but she can read Erik. He won't let anything happen to Lorien. He will do whatever needs to be done to prevent her from falling into the wrong hands. He will not flinch from the difficult choice. They know the worst of life, she and Erik. Her daughter will not be a pawn. She and the Doctor watch as Erik carries Lorien out of the room. 

"I would write," Charles offers, "but all things considered, perhaps better not."

"Leave your papers to a museum," the Doctor says, his voice at once wry and rough with tears. 

"We need to go," River says. "Otherwise there isn't any point to all of this."

"I'm sorry," Charles says. "I know it's a difficult decision. But she won't lack for anything here. I promise you."

 _Except her parents_ , River wants to say, but instead she thanks Charles. The Doctor puts his arm around her as they walk back through the house. His arm is still around her as they step into the TARDIS and close the door behind them. They set a course for somewhere far away, anywhere but here. The TARDIS whooshes into life. Only then does River let herself cry, sobbing and gasping against the Doctor's shoulder as he presses his own teary cheek against her hair. His chest heaves against hers. They hold each other for a long time as the TARDIS spins through the black.


End file.
